


Pandemonium

by alysurr



Series: Smash Into You Interludes [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cocaine, Drugs, F/F, Gen, Marijuana, Nonbinary Character, References to Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27747517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alysurr/pseuds/alysurr
Summary: Dylan Taylor was Catra’s first friend when she moved to Salineas, Oregon from Minas, Brazil. Back then, they were just going by their initials, DT, and the stage name of Double Trouble hadn’t even been a concept.Pandemonium is a Smash Into You Spin-Off focused on Catra's friendship and adventures with Double Trouble.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Catra & Double Trouble (She-Ra), Catra/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Series: Smash Into You Interludes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951750
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Preface: Smokeshow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Brief, non-descriptive skirting over of attempted sexual assault by a step-parent.

**Smokeshow** (n.) a person so hot that you can literally see the smoke coming off of them.

* * *

Dylan Taylor was Catra’s first friend when she moved to Salineas from Minas, Brazil. Back then, they were just going by their initials, DT, and the stage name of Double Trouble hadn’t even been a concept. Their first meeting was rocky and accidental: Catra was sneaking a cigarette in the boy’s bathroom of the all girls’ school her step-dad insisted she attend, and DT sauntered in to do the same, but they weren’t just smoking tobacco. 

Their appearance was entrancing to Catra, who couldn’t recall even seeing this person in the halls at school. DT’s golden blonde hair was silky and straight, slicked back and shaved on the sides. They were wearing the same uniform as everyone else did, the too-stiff white collared blouse tucked into a plaid skirt that seemed several inches shorter than Catra’s, even with their height difference. Their tights, torn and withruns in several places, were tucked into scuffed and well-worn platform doc martens, and their tie was loose under their unbuttoned blazer. They wore a tattoo choker around their neck, and had over a dozen piercings between their ears.

They regarded each other in silence, DT wearing a smirk and Catra a grimace. After a few moments, Catra put out her cigarette on the edge of the sink she was sitting on before walking over to the toilet to flush the butt, and DT stopped her. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” They asked, amused with a hint of irritation, golden eyes focused on the brunette. 

“Getting rid of the evidence.” Was that not obvious?

“That’s so bad for the environment!” DT took the butt from Catra’s fingers, soaked it under the sink faucet, then tossed it in the trash. 

“What if the janitor sees it?” Catra asked, exasperated. 

“He’ll think it’s one of the teachers,” DT replied simply, as if it was obvious. They held out the joint they were smoking as an offering. Catra took it, taking a hit. Marijuana, and strong, too. “What’s your name?”

Catra didn’t have many friends, yet. After all, she moved here sophomore year as the weird girl with mismatched eyes, wild hair and a terrible case of rbf. It didn’t help that she was angry all the time, angry at her parents for moving her here, angry at her old friends for not talking to her as much anymore and forgetting about her, angry at the world for making her feel so fucking alone all the time. 

“Catarina Almeida, but I go by Catra. You?” 

“Dylan Taylor. I go by DT.” 

“Cool.” 

After that, they became inseparable. 

In school, DT taught her how to pack a bowl, how to roll a joint perfectly. Catra taught them how to expertly apply eyeliner, with wings so sharp they could cut a man or smudged for a perfectly sultry look. They were each others confidants, and Catra came out as a lesbian to DT before anyone else. They urged her to ask out the pretty blonde jock she was obsessed with, and held her as she cried after her step-dad got drunk one night and ended up in her bed rather than her mom’s junior year, causing her to shove him off and escape out of her bedroom window to the only house she knew she was safe at. They took her in when her mom didn’t believe her, and she didn’t feel safe in her own home anymore. 

DT’s house was more like a hotel than a home. It was on the more historic side of town, a multi-story townhouse with far too many rooms and way too many people coming and going. It made it easier for the two of them to sneak out at night to go to parties and get into their fair share of trouble. They slept at stranger’s houses more often than DT’s. 

DT’s mom was the eccentric owner of a local co-op grocery store who was always trying to save someone, be it this week’s boyfriend, struggling single moms or wayward teens. Catra was her ongoing project, and as far as she knew, she’d been rehabilitated by the time they moved out on their own. On paper, they were. Always willing to help around the house or the co-op when needed, not to mention that the duo managed to score full rides to the local university, Bright Moon. They had perfect grades and perfect attendance, and they looked good and were having the time of their lives while they did it.


	2. Toasted

**Toasted** (adj.) to be mildly inebriated.

* * *

**Junior Year, Second Semester**

The hallways at Elizabeth Thaymore Academy for Girls flooded with noise between classes. Lockers slamming, books hitting the floor, girls gossiping and shrieking as they reunited after winter break. Catra rolled her eyes. If she ever acted like  _ that _ after three weeks away from DT, they’d smack her across the campus to knock some sense into her. She shut her own locker and flicked her bangs out of her eyes, scanning the halls for that familiar face. 

She didn’t find them, but she did accidentally make eye contact with that senior that she made out with during homecoming last year and oh, god, she was coming over now. 

“Catra!” 

“Hey, uh…” Catra couldn’t recall her name. 

“It’s been a while, huh? How have you been? How was your winter break? Tell me everything!” If the tall, muscular platinum blonde noticed Catra’s hesitation, she didn’t make it known. 

“It was fine,” Catra said, scanning the hall around her. She wasn’t expecting this girl to be so… enthusiastic after that makeout session. Her appearance was more biker-goth-chic than bubbly cheerleader, but that’s exactly what her personality ended up being. Fortunately, Catra didn’t have to say much to entertain the conversation, and well… Scorpia, that was her name. Scorpia wasn’t, like, the worst person to have around, she supposed. She mostly kept the conversation going by herself, with minimal input from Catra, who tuned out for the vast majority of it. 

Where was DT? 

Catra’s mind was wiped blank by the sight of an anxious looking girl with a blonde ponytail, fair skin and striking blue eyes. Her uniform’s pleats were pressed so perfectly that today might have been the first time she’d worn it. She was struggling with the lock on her locker, fumbling with the combination a few times before dropping her shoulders in defeat. Catra couldn’t help but smirk.

Poor idiot. 

“Hey, good catching up with ya, Scorpia,” Catra said dryly before she headed towards the new girl. She could be a knight in shining armor, and maybe there’d be a reward for her chivalrous act. Scorpia called after her, but she was tunnel visioned on her new target and honestly probably would have tuned out whatever she’d said regardless. 

“Need some help?” Catra offered, and the blonde exhaled a sigh of relief as she nodded. She looked hopeless, stressed, and nervous. Like a lost and skittish puppy. “Gimme your code,” Catra commanded, and the girl handed over the slip of paper without question. Catra popped the lock open in three seconds. 

“Oh, I was doing it backwards.” The girl frowned, but smiled when she thanked Catra. 

“Don’t make a thing out of it,” Catra said, crossing her arms and leaning against the lockers. Even under her too-large blazer and too-long skirt, Catra could see that this girl had a beautifully defined body and a gorgeous face to match. She was entranced, but she was trying not to be too obvious. “You’re new here, right?” 

“Is it that obvious?” 

“Yup.” 

“I just moved here with my brother, Adam, and my older sister, Mara, two weeks ago. This was the only school accepting new students that had a lacrosse team.” Like, damn, Catra wasn’t asking for her life story, but she nodded along anyways. 

“Yeah, well, our lacrosse team sucks,” Catra said. 

“Hopefully I can change that!” Great, an optimist. 

“Sure. Let me know when you do,” Catra said. “Maybe I’ll come out for a game.” 

“I’m Adora, by the way. Adora Grayskull.” 

“Catra Almeida. I’m sure you’ll do just fine here. It sucks, but then it’s alright, I guess.” 

“There you are, kitten!” DT and their impeccable timing, as always. They threw their arms around Catra’s neck from behind, draping themself over her like a theater prop. “Ooh, who’s your new friend?” 

“This is Adora. She’s new here,” Catra explained, then elbowed DT so they’d get off of her, and out of her territory. She tried to signal  _ this one’s mine _ , with her eyes, but DT either didn’t catch it or was just outright ignoring her. 

“Pleasure, Adora,” DT said, stretching out a hand that Adora awkwardly took. DT pressed their lips to Adora’s knuckles, and the poor girl flushed red, flustered and awkward at the gesture. “Dylan Taylor. Call me DT.” 

“Nice to meet you, DT.” Adora said sheepishly. Finally finished unpacking her backpack into her locker, she checked her schedule and took out one book: Physics, dropping it back into the bag. 

“Physics, so you’re a junior, too, huh?” Catra asked. Adora nodded. “I have that class now, I can walk you there, if you want.” 

There came that smile again. “I’d really like that, thanks.” 

* * *

It didn’t matter what day of the week it was, DT knew about some party happening.

Sometimes they’d throw on hotshorts over fishnets, flashing fake IDs at bouncers who could care less as they applied the neon wristband that gave them free reign of the bar. Not that they ever ordered their own drinks. DT swung both ways, so flirting with horny dudes for free booze was easier for them. Catra had pretty much figured out she was gay in the third grade, when Oscar Moraes offered to take off his pants if she’d take hers off. It was just innocent childhood curiosity, but Catra wrinkled her nose at the sight and decided she’d be just fine never seeing one of those things again. Still, with a little coaching, she managed to put on just enough of a show to score a drink or two, then they spent the night dancing together until either the club closed or they couldn’t stand anymore. 

Other nights, they’d end up in some smoke-filled, mildew-smelling basement, lounging on old sagging couches and passing a joint around with a dozen strangers while sipping on free beer. Catra watched as a faceless guy in a beanie cut lines on a mirrored tray, then snorted one through a rolled up fifty. His friends took turns, two other guys and a girl. By the end of the night, the girl had a nosebleed. They’d sneak out as soon as anyone got too handsy, or once DT had swiped a couple ounces of weed to take home. 

Tonight, they had something even more intriguing. 

“Check it out,” DT said as they walked through the suburbs in the direction of the bus station. It was still cool, and Catra had a stolen coat wrapped tightly around her shoulders, popped collar doing very little to keep her neck warm. 

Catra held up the baggie that DT pressed into her palm, observing the powdery white contents. 

“What is it?” She asked. 

DT smirked, rolling their eyes. “It’s cocaine, kitten.” 


End file.
